


sex on jupiter

by Allegory



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abuse, M/M, Other, suicidal, you can tell its clearly 2am and im off my rockers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 20:53:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12417954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allegory/pseuds/Allegory
Summary: From his last physics project he’d learned that stars form by gravitational forces and he dreams of castrating himself on the grounds of a pope’s grave with nothing but a needle and lusty retainer.





	sex on jupiter

**Author's Note:**

> Keith berjalan ke luar bangunan dan menduduk di bawah naungan pokok. Dia melihat daun-daunnya mengesar; ini membolehi cahaya matahari yang sinar membuat berbagaian bentuk pada mukanya.
> 
> i even fucking tried to write this in malay fuck me like season 4 you guys

Keith walks out of his house and sits under the shelter of a tree. He watches as the leaves shift above him, casting various forms of light on his face. The sun burns bright, a swelling welt in the sky, and he can almost taste the heat on his tongue, burning the insides of his eyes.

Summer is a vicious time. There are few things in the way of entertainment that he can do without wrinkling into a prune. If his dad were still around Keith reckons that he’d say about the same thing; he decides it’s a genetic thing, that he isn’t just making stuff up so he can stay in all day.

He is, though. He knows this.

The McCain neighbors are noisy as ever. The clamor of pots and pans ring out while someone yodels into the afternoon sky, like if he tries hard enough his voice will push the sun away. A rat squeezes through a gap in the wooden fence, worn down by rain and slush after Keith first stuck his toenail under it and contemplated staking a wooden nail through for a blood ritual. It scurries towards a bush across the semi-mowed lawn (the fact is glaring. Someone had clearly done a neat job and decided to die halfway through). The younger Lance McCain is booted out of his front door by his father when an eagle swoops down like a crashing airplane towards Keith’s law. It snatches the rat and flies straight into the off-white picket fence.

“Get out of here!”

Keith watches through a gap in the fence. He also keeps an eye on the eagle, to be sure, as it struggles to pick itself up in a mess of feather and pain.

A resounding slam leaves Lance outside, having stumbled down the three steps of the portico where he sits on the hot brick pavement. He yanks at some of the wildflowers next to him only to find them much more resistant than he’d expected. His sigh of exasperation is one that brings a crease between Keith’s eyebrows. Meanwhile the eagle disappears behind the bush, possibly to start feasting on the rat. Lance turns and their eyes meet.

Lance’s right eye goes so far up that it might as well fly onto Jupiter. “Hell do you want?”

“You—“ Keith has to clear his throat as no sound emerges the first time. Not speaking for over a week does that to a person. “—you okay?”

He sounds so boyish that it’s embarrassing for himself to hear it. Keith bends down and sees that the eagle had sustained a bloody gunshot wound to its wing and it limps around now, the injured rat by its side, the two of them staggering. Keith thought he’d heard the noise of the gunshot earlier in a dream.

Lance picks himself up. He throws the wildflowers a distance but they end up fluttering down right in front of him, and his face turns into the visage of Hades if he decided to be a skinny teen boy one day. Without another word Lance in his BAZZAZZLE BALL washed out T-shirt and too-old slacks stalks out of his frontyard. Keith watches as he disappears beyond the houses of the neighborhood.

He picks up the rat, too, and leaves the eagle to writhe in pain. As long as Keith has been his neighbor he’s only ever seen Lance laugh with his little siblings as they made him grass bracelets, or hand his mom a glass of lemonade when she lies in the front yard to tan (Sundays, after church and checking several weather reports). The McCain family is made of kissers and huggers, lovers of life with their big grocery hauls and the consistent odor of corn beef chinchilla that seeps into Keith's house. Hadn’t that been the ghost of a bruise on Lance's cheek?

Back in his house, Keith puts the rat in a cage that used to belong to his parrot before it died or escaped. Keith isn’t sure. He lies himself down on the floor, back of his head against the musky Indian carpet as he decides that he’s not sure about a lot of things. He glances at the shreds of his calendar on the foot of the wall, wrinkled, some curved upwards in eagerness to take off at the slightest breeze. He closes his eyes and sees the eagle twitching to death on his lawn, imagining himself doing the same. From his last physics project he’d learned that stars form by gravitational forces, so he dreams of castrating himself on the grounds of a pope’s grave with nothing but a needle and lusty retainer. The universe coalesces at the apex of his dream, and suddenly, it all makes sense again.

**Author's Note:**

> when i am sane in the morning if im still alive ill read this and feel proud of my 18 years of achievement


End file.
